A Sermon Preached December 9, 2012, Advent 2C

By The Rt. Rev. Douglas Fisher

Grace Church – An Episcopal Community in the Southern Berkshires

(context: St. James Church of Great Barrington and St. George’s Church of Lee merged to form Grace Church. The church buildings were closed and the new community meets in the large reception hall of a pub at Crissey Farm. Bishop Fisher lives five miles from this new church.)

It is so good to be here with you today and to celebrate liturgy with my neighbors. Often bishops begin their sermons with greetings from their home. A couple of weeks ago I was with Bishop Daniel Sarfo in St. John’s of Williamstown. He began by saying “Greetings from Ghana.” When our Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts-Shori, preaches throughout the world, she says “Greetings from the United States of America.” I stand before you today and say “Greetings from the other side of Guido’s Food Market.”

Last week you celebrated the 250^th Anniversary of St James. I heard it was a glorious celebration. I am sorry I could not be with you but I was at our Cathedral, being “seated.” Part of that wonderful, traditional service is banging on the door with the crozier, asking to be let in. I’m really happy they allowed me through the doors and I invite you to come to our great and holy Cathedral and see the dents I put in that door.

When I was ordained a priest on May 17, 1980, after the ordination and before the reception I stopped in to see an elderly priest who was dying. I prayed with him and then asked him what advice he had for me as a young priest starting out. He said, “Doug, love the people, just love the people.”

Your rector, Francie Hills, loves the people of this church. She is doing what Father Basil told me to do those many years ago. Let’s tell her how much we love her. (applause)

I have known for a long time what story I would use in this sermon. Here it is.  My youngest daughter’s name is Grace. When she was three years old and we were at St. Peter’s in Peekskill, whenever she would hear the word “grace” in the liturgy, she would shout out “Hey, that’s my name!” You would be amazed how many times we say “grace” in our service. One time the Fisher family was going to an Anglican convent of cloistered nuns (yes, there is such a thing in our Church). A friend of mine was being installed as chaplain. We told our children this was not like St. Peter’s. We had to be really quiet.

As soon as we entered the convent chapel, the kids understood this was not like St. Peter’s. It was a time to be quiet. The service went along fine and then the word “grace” was said. I thought “ok, here it comes.” But Gracie stayed quiet. She just tugged on my sleeve so I would look at her. And then she silently lifted her hand, thumb up, and pointed to herself.

I am going to come back to that image. Store it in your soul.

In today’s gospel we have what some theologians call the most important line in the whole bible. (A great advantage to preaching every week in a different place is that I can say “today’s gospel has the most important line in the whole bible” every week and get away with it.) Here it is: In the 15^th year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and Lysanius ruler of Abilene, and Caiaphas the High Priest, the word of God came to a man named John, son of Zechariah, in the wilderness.”

Why is that the most important line in the whole Bible? Because it tells us our story of faith is not make-believe. It is the opposite of “once upon a time.” It is not “in a galaxy far away.” It is not a fantasy. In this time and in this place, when Tiberius was Emperor and Pilate governor of Judea and Herod ruled Galilee, the word of God came to a man named John who had a dad named Zechariah and it happened in the wilderness.” You can’t get much more precise than that. Our faith is not an abstraction. It is God working with us in the real world.

There are other important dimensions of this passage. Notice the Word of God did not come to the Emperor or the Governor or the King or the High Priest (their equivalent of a Bishop). It did not come to the Royal Palace or the place of political power or the Temple. It came to a man with no titles (John), and it came in the wilderness – a real place and a place that symbolized confusion and chaos and dislocation. The Word of God is wild and free. It can arrive anywhere – in the wilderness of the year 30 or maybe in the reception room of a pub in Great Barrington in the 21^st Century.

One of my spiritual heroes is Thomas Merton. Merton was a Roman Catholic monk and social activist who died 44 years ago tomorrow while visiting a Buddhist Monastery in Thailand. After many years in the monastery of Gethsemane Kentucky he went to Louisville for a doctor’s appointment. And here is what happened in his words:

“In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved these people. That they were mine and I theirs. It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race…there is no way of telling them that they are walking around shining like the sun.

“I suddenly saw the beauty of their hearts, the depth of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self knowledge can reach, the core of their reality. The person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could see themselves as they really are. If only they could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed.”

The word of God came to Thomas Merton. And it was not in church. It was not in the monastery. It was on the corner of 4^th and Walnut in Louisville.

There are a number of churches in our great diocese who are suffering under the burden of church buildings they cannot afford. Their mission is being blocked by maintaining buildings. They don’t know what to do. We are all looking at the new Grace Church – the merger of St James and St George’s- praying together in a building that is not a church. And we are looking – does the Word of God come there? You are a new model. We are all praying for you and hoping for you and looking to you for a new way of being church.

Here’s another story, borrowed from other preachers. There was a Sunday School class where every Sunday the teacher would end the class in this way: she would invite the class to do the old hand prayer of “here is the church and here is the steeple, open the doors and here are all the people.” (acts this out) On this Sunday there was a visitor –a little boy with only one hand. The teacher did not know that and went into her invitation for the usual ending. The girl sitting next to the boy with one hand saw immediately his feeling of discomfort and isolation. She reached over to him with a hand and grabbing his said “let’s be church together.”

Someday you might be with a person without a church. With great courage and breaking from your Episcopal sense of holding back, say to that person “I know of another dimension to life. My life has been changed by faith, by knowing I am not alone in a meaningless universe. I am held by a God who gives me life. Let’s be church together. Let’s be Grace Church together.”

And when that person says “where is this Grace Church? Where is the steeple?” Just lift your hand with thumb up and point to yourself. Amen.

A Sermon Preached December 2, 2012 Advent 1C

by The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop and Primate of the Episcopal Church

What are the latest disasters on your mind?  And I don’t mean somebody forgetting to start the coffee.  What about Sandy, or the tornadoes in Springfield in 2011?  The aftereffects will be with you for a long time.  The cleanup and the economic impact will continue for months and maybe years.  Is that one of the “signs in the heavens, the roaring of the sea and its waves”?  Are people fainting from fear and foreboding?  They certainly have been in other places up and down the Eastern seaboard.  Whole communities have disappeared. 

The Bishop of Long Island told us yesterday that 90 of their hospital employees lost their homes to the fires that erupted in the midst of the storm.  A rabbi friend of mine in New York told of entire congregations that are displaced – every member now homeless, and their synagogues unusable as well.  Both are gathering ordained and lay leaders to figure out how to support people in this massive displacement.  My friend the rabbi has worked on the particular needs of children, like how to bring them back to Hebrew school once there’s a space to meet in again, and how to respond to their questions in the face of disaster – the same questions ones people of all ages ask.  She’s reminding others of a prayer that sounds much like today’s psalm, and encouraging them to pray it with worried children:

            “I place my spirit in God’s care;

my body too can feel God near.

When I sleep, as when I wake,

God is with me; I have no fear.”[1]

This community here has been through something like the end-of-the-world events Jesus is talking about.  A collapsing building must felt like the apocalypse for the people of St. James.  For St. George, it may have been harder so see slowly collapsing finances as a crisis, but each community must have experienced a good deal of fear and anxiety over months and years. 

What happened to bring you to this place?  It was the beginning of the end for both communities, yet now is abundant new life to celebrate.  The passing away of what you knew of heaven and earth has brought new energy to your earth-shaped ministry in Gideon’s Garden, as well as vitality to the Lee Pantry and nursing home ministry.  A new and vibrant community is being built here at Crissey Farm, by the grace of God. 

How did you get here?

            How do we move from fear to confidence, knowing that God is near?

            Rabbi Jesus reminds his friends to stay alert, and pay attention, for help is coming.  The word he uses for help – redemption – means literally, “buying back,” like taking something back to the store and getting your money back, or turning in your winning lottery ticket for the prize.  In Jesus’ day it was more often used to mean paying a ransom to liberate a captive, or buying the freedom of a slave.  Mostly in the New Testament it means setting people free, through the saving work of Jesus.  What does he say about his purpose?  I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly.

That abundant life is grounded in hope and expectation that even in the midst of world-ending disasters, God is doing a new thing.

Yet that’s not always our first response to the threat of death and destruction.  We tend to cower in the dark for quite a while when the lights go out the first time.  Maybe for those with more experience, it’s only a second or two, but there is still a shiver of fear and doubt before we go hunt down the flashlight and candles.  It does get easier with practice, which is one reason we call what we do in communities like this one, “practicing our faith.”  It includes teaching our children night-time prayers, and it includes telling the stories of our own deliverance and redemption. 

I’m standing here today because of my own experience in the dark.  The bottom fell out of my possibilities as an oceanographer 25 years ago, as federal research funding was diverted from basic science to other ends.  I felt like a complete failure – what had I spent all those years doing in graduate school if I couldn’t find a real position and a lasting job?  In the midst of that dark night three people in my congregation asked me if I’d ever thought about being a priest.  Those challenges came out of the blue, and they made little sense to me at the time, but eventually they became a sign that God might do something else with me if I could find the guts and the hope to cooperate.

We all have stories of new life, but most of us have to practice telling them, or telling more than one such story.  I had somebody else challenge me along the way by asking what the hardest thing was going to be in exploring this vocation.  From somewhere deep inside came the response, “learning to be vulnerable in public.”  Telling the story is an act that claims the confidence that help is on its way, remembers that help is already present, and that we’ve already seen God in action in our own lives!  Telling the story also creates more hope, and more confidence – practice may not make us perfect in this life, but it leads us closer to God.

What does Jesus say in this morning’s gospel?  “Stand up, pay attention, because your redemption – your experience of new life – is coming.  All you have to do is look for the signs.  But don’t let your guard down – your heart has to be open and not completely filled with anxiety or unimportant things.  New life is on its way – keep watching for it, don’t miss it or ignore the signs, even when they’re tiny.”  That’s what he means by praying that you have the strength to escape these disasters, especially the invitation to hopelessness that often comes with darkness and disaster.  Don’t give in.

Call on your friends to tell their stories of hope, or to ask you to tell yours.  What story would you tell your neighbor about hope?  Take a few minutes to bring that story to mind, and then consider where you might tell it today, and this week.  Come next Sunday, reflect on the stories you’ve heard and told, and take the measure of your hope and confidence.  God is indeed doing a new thing.  Can you see it?

---

[1] http://www.thejewishweek.com/editorial-opinion/opinion/judaism-honors-our-childrens-questions

A Sermon Preached November 18, 2012 Proper 28 B

by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector

Now for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said, “Why, I didn’t notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others.”

(Tom Sawyer replied,) “Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them…”

Becky grew apprehensive, “I wonder how long we’ve been down here, Tom? We better start back.”

“Yes, I reckon we better…”

“Can you find the way, Tom? It’s all a mixed up crookedness to me.”

And so in this memorable scene
          When a system leaps

          Mark Twain captures

                   Our human fascination with caves,

          And even more fascinating,

                   Being lost in a cave!

Lots of stories use this theme…

          Someone discovers a dark opening

                   In a forest, a cellar or a wardrobe

                   And they enter out of curiosity…

They lose track of time.

          Someone almost slips over an edge,

                   Or makes a wrong turn.

Their candle goes out,

          A bat flies by,

                   A scream…

Then, they realize—

          THEY ARE LOST.

And the light and order

          They’d known just moments before

                   Have become darkness and chaos…

In today’s Gospel,

Jesus warns of the Chaos at the End Time,

          “When you hear of wars and rumors

          of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take

          place, but the end is still to come. For

          nation will rise against nation and kingdom

against kingdom; there will be earthquakes

in various places; there will be famines.”

We don’t know when the End Time is,

          But we do know about Darkness & Chaos. 

In a less dramatic form,

We know something of chaos & darkness

          Simply because of the season change:

It’s late November,

          In the Northern Hemisphere.

Back in March

          The daylight began to expand,

                   And by midsummer,

                   Sunshine became our element.

Then, as fall arrived,

          Our hours of sunshine have decreased;

Now darkness seems

          To encroach on ever side—

Sometimes threatening

          To extinguish our candles.

And then there’s the darkness

That may have fallen on us

When, after a childhood

          That may have seemed like a picnic,

We discovered the party was over,

          And anxiety became our companion.

At that time, or perhaps before,

          If our childhood was not a picnic,

We learned to stay alert,

          To fear the ridicule of others,

                   And to worry about our mistakes,

                             And all manner of things

                                      We can’t control. 

We learned to survive as best we could

          And in the process,

We learned things like

          Aggression, Blaming,

                   Scapegoating,

                             Deception and

                                      Passively lying low…

That’s what we see others do,

So that’s what we do.

These are human “survival tools”

          We develop over time;

However, they can come to enshroud us—

          Become like a dark cave

                   For our spirits and souls.

And, if they dampen us too much,

          We experience our lives

                   As dark chaos,

“A mixed up crookedness”

We may wonder

          If we’ll ever find our way out of the cave.

Obviously the same kinds of things

          Can happen at a societal level:

Any of us who remember Sept. 11, 2001,

          Can testify how

The orderly way we thought things were

          Was suddenly plunged into chaos:

We got a new department

In the government, “Homeland Security”.

And wars in Afghanistan and Iraq began.  Financial crises came along and besiege us.

Then it seems like more and more

Hurricanes, Tsunamis, poverty, AIDS,

                    Floods and fires ravish the earth.

Over time our major political parties

Have forgotten how to work together,

          And seem to exist

          In a ugly power struggle

          That’s driven by greed and power,

          NOT the common good. . .

Hopefully, with the threat

Of the financial “cliff”

Staring us in the face,

We will see this political situation change.  

Close to home,

People are still recovering from tornados

And Storms Irene and now Sandy.

A headline in yesterday’s Eagle

          Said “Israel’s heart under attack”

(The story was about how, for the first time,

Hamas aimed its rockets

At the Holy City Jerusalem.)

And when we find our society

          In these dark, chaotic caves,

We also adopt societal survival tools,

          Like blaming and scapegoating,

          That, if used over long periods of time,

          Dampen our communal souls & spirits.

Some Good News…

Scientists who work with Chaos Theory

          Say Chaos may not be

                   As bad as we’ve thought.

They suggest a new appreciation

          Of the relationship between

                   Order and Chaos.

They understand these two forces

          As mirror images—

                   The one contains the other.

So, there is a process

                   Into Chaos and Unpredictability,

The state of Chaos is contained

    In well-ordered and predictable boundaries.

‘Don’t know about you,

          But that’s a comfort to me

                    As we live in the transitional chaos

          Of saying goodbye to one bishop

And welcoming another.

Of saying goodbye to Charles and Jane

And trying to imagine

A new music ministry

For Grace Church.

Of simultaneously celebrating

St. James’ 250 Years

While letting go of

The separate identities

Of Sts. James and George

And become Grace Church!

Founding Members and Friends of Grace…

Take heart!

Those involved in the New Science

          Think living systems

                   Have a great capacity

                             To respond to disorder

                             With renewed life: New Life!

So disorder can play a critical role

          In giving birth

                   To new, higher forms of order;

And, for Chaos Theorists,

          It takes both the Order and the Chaos—

                   The Light and the Dark—

                             To bring wholeness.

Perhaps these theories from the New Science

          Can help us see in new ways  

Our personal, church, natural,

And social times

                             Of dark Chaos… 

When “It’s all a mixed up crookedness,”

Perhaps darkness can be a place

          Of mystery, depth, adventure

                   And joyful expectation…

          In addition to being a place of fear.

I’m certainly experiencing all of this

          As we are in the labor of transition

                   For birthing Grace!

Like any new child,

She will need all of us in her family =

          Her foundational members and friends

To be there for her and each other.

And she will need

Our wholehearted financial support

To assure a healthy beginning.

As we sign the Parish Register

And turn in our pledge cards today,

Let’s embrace this time of unknowing/ birthing  

With a spirit of mystery, depth, adventure

                   And joyful expectation!

Another way to think

          Of times of transition and uncertainty,

                   (Besides Chaos Theory)

Is to think of the rhythms

Of the Church Year, and we can see:

    God won’t leave us in the dark cave forever!

Indeed, over the coming weeks,

          The Spirit of the Annunciation =

That Word to Mary

                   That she would bring God’s Son

                             Into the world…

The Spirit of the Annunciation

         Can guide us from where we are, Through the season of Advent,

          Into the joy of Christmas,

Then into the light of the Epiphany,

                             The day and season

                             When we follow a Star and Celebrate

                   How God’s light and Good News

                   Are meant to be carried

                             To all people in all the world.

Epiphany (Jan. 6) will be our first official Sunday

As Grace Church! It will be our feast day!

So how appropriate is the church calendar

For the days ahead:

We’ll go through the dark mystery of Advent

          And the labor pains of transition,   

          Because we know we are helping bring

                   Grace Church into the world!

We know God

Will focus our vision for this church

          At Christmas

By birthing his Son, who is

The way, the truth, and the life.

This is the Son who shows us

          We are God’s beloved children.

          We do not need to be afraid.  

We do not need to have power struggles.

          Because he is the Child and Lord

                   Of love, peace, and unity

                             For all the world to see.

And this is the Son

          Whose Star shows us our mission…

Spreading God’s love, peace, and unity

          Throughout the world.

As the church seasons continue after Epiphany,

          Through Lent to prepare us

                   To experience the ultimate example:

We’ll go from

          The Chaos and Darkness of Good Friday

          Into the Order and Light of Easter morning

IT TAKES BOTH DARKNESS AND LIGHT

          FOR WHOLENESS AND NEW LIFE.

“Shh! (Tom said) Did you hear that?” Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout…

“It’s them!” said Tom, “they’re coming!”

When Tom emerged from the cave,

          He pushed his head and shoulders

                   Through a small hole

And saw the broad Mississippi River

          Rolling by…

                   But it wasn’t just the Mississippi:

What he saw—

          And what all of us will see

                   When we finally emerge

From our personal, societal, and churchy

Caves of anxiety

                    (And all that goes with them)         

What we’ll see is

          The Face of a Holy Child,

          A Star that leads us forward,

          The Faces of our neighbors as friends,

                   A Tomb that’s empty,

                             And the Promise of New Life.

                                                                 Amen.  

A Letter from TP (10-years-old) to the Church at Crissey Farm

(Read by the writer at the service on November 18, 2012)

Dear Friends of the soon-to-be Grace Church,

My family has been attending St. James for three years. It means a lot to me!

I really love to know that when I enter the Sunday school room, I will be greeted with Dindy’s smiles, then stories. She brings the Bible stories to life in ways children will understand.

I also love seeing Francie in her fancy robes, her welcoming face, and hearing her soft words every Sunday.

I love that Charles gives my brother a chance to sing solos. I also like his enthusiasm with music. We will miss him very much but I know that what he has given to St. James Church will live on in the music of Grace.

It is important to realize that God is always with you. And I am reminded of that every Sunday here at church. I think we should all work together to make the world a better place where God’s love is felt by everyone. And to this, I pledge my help.

Thank you, choir, for your music; thank you, Francie, for your ministry; and thank you all for being a part of this one extended family, so to speak.

Thank you!

The Shape of Love's Presence

A sermon preached by Lee Cheek, Lay Preacher, 

@ Crissey Farm, Great Barrington 11-11-12

 

I don’t know about you, but John and I are thoroughly enjoying the new series on PBS Sunday evenings: “Call the Midwife.”  The series is based on the memoirs of Jennifer Lee Worth, a nurse trained for service in post-war London as a mid-wife deployed by the newly implemented National Health Service.  She and several other young women served the slums of the East End of London, where they were headquartered in an Anglican Convent whose sisters also served as midwives. 

Among the series’ delights is the voice-over in each episode spoken by Vanessa Redgrave who portrays Worth’s older, wiser self as she looks back on her life.  In the tone of her voice, you can hear her heart scouring her memories for the Presence of Love in the messiness of her life and in the lives the families she served.

I haven’t read Worth’s memoirs yet, but in the televised series, Worth is unflinchingly and graciously honest about how flawed we human beings are.  She is also honest about the  surprise of Love in  unpromising situations as well as the sad, tragic consequences  when Love is temporarily shut out.

The same could be said about the writings we Christians call our “Bible” comprised of the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament writings. They are memoirs, too.   They, too, are unflinching memoirs of flawed human beings and their 2000 years of being surprised by The Presence of Love in their messy and unpromising circumstances and the tragedy of what happened when they tried to shut Love out.  

The Book of Ruth is one such story of the Mysterious Presence of Love in an unpromising situation.  This morning we heard excerpts from the second half of the story.  Since we missed the first half last week when we used the readings for All Saints, I’ll catch you up a bit. 

Naomi, her husband Elimelech, and their two sons flee famine in their native Judah to work and live in the fields of Moab, an alien land on the other side of the Dead Sea. 

After some years there, her husband dies. Then a few years later both her sons die, leaving their two Moabite wives, Orpah and Ruth, to live with Naomi.  When Naomi hears there is food again in Judah, the three childless widows hit the road for Bethlehem, Naomi’s hometown. 

There are many clues that this story may be an allegory of the exiled Israelites returning to Jerusalem from Babylon, but we are immediately drawn into a story of disaster for these vulnerable women, who have no men to protect them and provide for them.  The three childless widows are the sole remnants of a family.  

Widows are very much on the mind of the Markan memoirist in our Gospel reading this morning.  Upon hearing this comparison of indigent widows and well-positioned elitists who are able to legally rob them of their money, no contemporary of Mark’s community could have failed to recall the numerous condemnations in Jeremiah and Deuteronomy of those who take advantage of resident aliens, orphans, and widows. 

And if we read further in Mark, we cannot fail to see that this comparison immediately precedes what is known as the Markan Apocalypse, Jesus’ description of the end times which includes the destruction of the Second Temple.  I leave you to reflect on this as our nation’s leaders are re-working federal taxation policies and determining budget priorities.

But back to Ruth. Let me say how grateful I am to my circle of Jewish friends for all the many recommendations of commentary on this amazing Book of Ruth.*  I was greatly enriched by this study and eventually had the peculiar experience of the book “reading me” –telling me something about myself. 

Though God never “acts” in the book of Ruth, we sense that God—The Presence of Love—is very present.  For me Ruth is a master class in how to listen for the Presence of Love in my life and in the lives of others.

Naomi manages to dissuade Orpah from leaving her own people in Moab, but Ruth clings to her. Sticks by her side.  We can feel how The Presence of the God of Love, clings to Naomi and will not let this suffering, embittered woman go anywhere alone.  

Dear One!  Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you!  Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge.  Where you die, I will die.  

Imagine that this is the voice of Love speaking to you.  You, personally, in all your vulnerability, your weakness, your lack of funds, your lack of shelter, your lack of dignity, your lack of success.  I say to you that I can hardly bear that Love would speak to me thus. But I know it to be true.  Love has stuck by me even in my arrogance, my hubris, my vengefulness, my greediness, my bitterness and my resentment.  

As in Exodus, when God speaks to Moses, Love sees  a possibility in an unpromising situation, with a precarious future, and says, 

        I will be with you.

Ted [Cobden], in his beautiful “epistle” to us this morning alludes to this Presence of Love that would move two dying embers closer together so they may re-ignite.  The Presence of Love sees the possibility and a future when we can’t, and has no plans for leaving the hearth untended.

Naomi and Ruth arrive in Bethlehem. While Naomi professes her bitterness of what she believes is God’s harsh treatment of her, Ruth, the Love bearer,  unhurriedly and uncomplainingly goes to work gathering up the left-over grain as permitted for those in need.  In an act of generous benevolence, hesed, Boaz, the owner of the field, grants special protections to the alien Ruth who is unknown to him.

Thus Naomi is abundantly fed by  Love’s steady harvest of the field’s left-overs.  That’s just the way Love is.  It simply makes do with anything that is left lying around!

Nourished by the food of Love, Naomi revives and sees an opportunity for Ruth’s future.  She sends her to lie down beside Boaz who is asleep on the threshing floor, guarding the threshed wheat.  It is no surprise here that the threshing floor is a both a place of illicit sexual relations and a place of theophanies, appearances of God.  

As instructed by Naomi, Ruth-Love, lies at his “feet”(a euphemism for genitals) until he wakes and asks, trembling, “Who are you?”   She answers in Love’s singular way, confidently yet modestly:  “I AM Ruth your servant.  May you spread your cloak over your servant, for you are a redeemer.”  

 

You know, the Presence of Love waits for us like this:  Gently, quietly, confidently at rest next to the most vulnerable parts of us, which are paradoxically the most fertile places in us for new life.   Love waits for us to wake up so She can say:

I Am Thine.  Marry ME!   We will make Something from Nothing together.

This is how Love speaks to us, enticing us to give ourselves away.  Love desires, as did Ruth, to gently decant the generosity, the benevolence, the hesed, we didn’t know we had in us. 
 

We also see in this story that the Presence of Love does not take “no” for an answer.  Neither does Love recognize things being closed off or shut down.  And the Presence of Love is not boastful or arrogant, nor unkind to us.  Love waits patiently by our side, never leaving us, for however long it takes for us to recover from our losses. Think of the flooded Taft Farm fields last year and the trucks full of vegetables that have been sent from it  to New York City this year! 

So Ruth and Boaz marry and conceive.  Love delights in this!  Imagine—a family from a pair of childless widows!  Grace Church from two homeless congregations!  A renewed fire from dying embers! 

May we awaken each day on the threshing floor of our lives to the devoted Presence of Love who, mysteriously confident in us, whispers to our trembling surprise,

            I am Thine.  Marry ME.  We will make Something from Nothing together.

AMEN.

 _______
* A group of Jewish and Christian scripture students in South Berkshire County, MA, met for several months this year to begin reading together the Jewish Annotated New Testament (Oxford). They recommended to me the following books which I found very helpful preparing this sermon on Ruth:  Reading the Women of the Bible (Frymer-Kensky. Schocken, 2002); Reading Ruth (ed. Kates and Reimer. Ballentine, 1994); Certain People of the Book (Samuel. Knopf, 1955).  I am also indebted to James Alison and his monumental new education series soon to be released, The Forgiving Victim: An Induction into Christian Vulnerability. http://forgivingvictim.com/